


Body Language

by Wolfsbride



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/pseuds/Wolfsbride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M drives Bond to ruin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Language

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dusty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/gifts), [Flurina](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Flurina), [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts), [TemporaMores](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemporaMores/gifts), [MrsConnery](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=MrsConnery).



> This fic was inspired by this line from Tea & Sympathy... Finally - _“And I promise not to hold my pen in suggestive ways.”_ but since there's no tea, it gets to stand alone :)

When Bond begins to give M his mission report, she reaches for one of the pens in the holders on her desk. He figures she’s killed quite a few people in her time. There’s probably a file somewhere buried so deep that only M and one other knows about it. He wonders if it would tell how she made her kills and whether any of them was with her bare hands. 

Even before this thing between them became physical, he'd been hyper aware of M's hands. They’re not particularly small hands, given her size, and even age does not detract from their strength. When they’re alone together, her touches are confident and her ability to use that strength against him makes him wild. 

Right now, though, he regrets telling her about his fascination.

Because instead of just removing the pen from the holder and starting to make her notes, she grips it lightly, and then moves her hand up and down, fingers trailing along the body. She finishes off by rubbing her thumb over the top before taking the pen and jotting down a few things.

Bond stumbles over his sentence, clears his throat and continues. 

A few minutes later she stops him to ask a question. She doesn’t rest the pen on her desk; she taps it against her mouth while she listens. Bond finds he’s having a hard time stringing his thoughts together. When M flicks her tongue out to touch the head of the pen, he has to stop altogether.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Bond?” 

Her attitude is innocence incarnate and Bond wishes he hadn’t just spent the last four weeks turning down overtures. There hadn’t been any real reason for seduction on this particular mission and he hadn’t felt like sleeping with anyone that wasn’t M. 

He shakes his head. “No, ma’am.”

“Then, do carry on.”

Bond succeeds in picking up the thread of their discussion. Tanner and Moneypenny enter M’s office while he’s wrapping up his report. He’s finishing off with a description of how he cornered the mark, when M sucks on the top of her pen. He strangles a groan but it causes both Tanner and Moneypenny look at him with concern.

“Are you alright, sir?” Tanner asks.

Bond coughs. “Err… Yes. Um… Excuse me, a moment.” He gets up, careful to angle his body away from Tanner and Moneypenny’s gaze. He doesn’t get to leave, however.

M inclines her head toward her private bathroom. “Don’t dawdle, Mr.Bond. We do have other matters to discuss.”

He edges past Tanner and Moneypenny and around M’s desk. Once inside he stares at himself in the mirror and then looks down at his crotch. Being here isn’t really helping because there have been several instances of he and M making use of the facilities in a manner he’s sure wasn’t intended by MI6. 

_Don’t dawdle_ means he’s not supposed to take time out for a wank. So instead he stands at the sink with his hands stuck under the cold water for a minute. Then he dries them and ventures back into the fray.

In his absence M has handed out folders to Tanner and Moneypenny. She passes one to him as he rounds the corner of her desk. He’s not sure how but she manages to do so in a way that allows their fingers to touch. 

Inside the folders are the details for the next mission. When M starts to stroke the side of her folder while discussing the pertinent mission points, Bond lowers his file to hide his lap. He hopes the meeting is over soon.

It’s a vain hope. M seems determine to drive him insane. She goes over the specifics in detail while surreptitiously tracing patterns over her desk at an angle only he can see. His cock is straining against his trousers. He recalls vividly just how good her hands feel. 

Finally, after what feels like forever, they’re done. Bond remains seated while Tanner and Moneypenny excuse themselves. When the door closes behind them, he gets up carefully, locks it and then goes about ensuring their privacy.

Crossing over to M’s desk, he drops his file on top of it and then drags her chair out and swings it around. He sinks to his knees, which drags a gasp out of M. He’s gratified. At least he’s not alone in this. His hands are shaking when he reaches out to grasp the sides of her chair. 

“Please.” He feels breathless, as if he’d run a marathon. “I know I promised to be good, but can I touch you? _Please_?” His sits on his haunches and looks up at her.

Her hand on his head galvanizes him. 

He’s just started to slide his hands up M’s stocking clad legs when her phone rings. “Don’t answer that.” He says without thinking. 

She gives him a look and takes the call. 

His hands tremble where they’re resting against M’s calves and he’s so focused on not moving that he doesn’t pay any attention to her conversation. He’s startled when she curses after she hangs up the phone.

“I’m needed elsewhere.”

Bond blinks. It’s not until she shoves at him gently with her foot that he gets up awkwardly. He follows her out and she doesn’t question him.

Elsewhere turns out to be Q division and as they make their way there Bond notices that M is walking rather close to him, their hands and bodies occasionally touch. It’s more of an unconscious action than a deliberate tease but knowing that doesn’t change how his body reacts. 

****

Bond ends up standing behind things a lot while M goes over things with Q. At one point, he stands behind M, but that turns out to be a mistake which he hurriedly corrects. By the time they get back to M’s office, Bond is ready to throw her down, promise be dammed. 

Fortunately, it’s not so early that it would look odd if they left, and he gathers M’s coat and helps her into it. He wants to be helping her out of everything else but that will have to wait. They walk down to the garage in silence. Again M gravitates towards him. He helps her into his car and then they’re off. 

At least until they get unto the roads. Traffic crawls along. Now Bond is the one cursing. 

The drive from MI6 headquarters to M’s flat is nothing but torture. Every time Bond has to use the gear stick, all he can think of is wrapping his hand around his cock. Or wrapping M’s hand around his cock. His cock feels like it’s ready to burst and he’s not sure if he wants to scream or cry. He nearly causes an accident when M touches his thigh. Amid a cacophony of honks, Bond yanks the car down a side street and then pulls over. 

“James?”

He can hear her concern but he needs to be away from her. “Stay in the car.”

Getting out, he moves a few feet away and breathes deeply. His reprieve is short lived. M joins him a few minutes later. When she touches his arm, he turns on her. He’s a little ashamed at the satisfaction he feels when she takes a step back at his expression. “If you don’t want me to take you over the hood, you _will_ get back in the car.”

It’s not a deterrent. Her hand goes to her throat and she regains the ground she lost. 

“ _James_. 

Her voice is husky with want and he looks around with the intent on finding someplace for them before sanity returns. He runs his hands over his hair. “Christ.” He hustles her back into the car before they end up doing something that will show up on the news. 

****

They barely make it inside the door of M’s flat. Bond pushes her up against the door and grinds against her. He can hear her talking breathlessly but he can’t take the time to process the words. Somehow he knows she’s not telling him to stop and that’s enough. 

He fumbles with the front of his trousers and then pulls her skirt up far enough that he can thrust between her legs. He cries out when she clamps her legs tight to give him something to work against. The silk of her underwear and her slickness ease the way and it only takes a few seconds for him to fall into a rapid pace.

It doesn’t take long after that. He comes, gasping her name repeatedly as his body shudders. When she clutches at him and moans, he presses his face into her neck. 

After they’ve recovered a little, he finally gets around to taking off her coat and other winter wear. They smile at each other, too tired to do any real talking. Taking her hand, Bond leads her through to her bathroom.


End file.
